Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
My feelings for Vinnie were complicated, but underneath it all, we shared an indelible connection that felt like a gift. JC was right. There was no reason to overthink this thing between Vinnie and me. The details were murky, but it was oddly comforting to know there would never be a real end. We simply were and always would be…us.
Ronnie didn’t fuss about being dropped off first. He was too busy banging his head and scream-singing lyrics he’d memorized in high school. He was pumped up with renewed energy and grand ideas about continuing the party with just one more beer.
“No,” I huffed. “Go to bed. I need to take this guy home.”
Ronnie beamed. “Oh, yeah. You like each other again, huh? Don’t deny it. I can feel the love. Fuck, I’m smart. See ya.”
Vinnie watched intently as Ronnie disappeared into his house.
“I wonder if he knows something,” he commented soberly, lowering the volume on the radio.
“Like what?” I slammed on the brakes in the middle of Ronnie’s driveway and twisted to face him. “And what is happening here? I thought you were drunk.”
“Are you kidding me? They still serve piss for beer at the Black Horse. I’d have to drink a full keg of that shit to get buzzed. The tequila shots would have done the trick, but I passed mine on to Kirby and Emmett. I’m slightly tipsy at best.”
I snorted. “So that was all a big act?”
Vinnie shrugged good-naturedly. “I might have turned it up a notch or ten when I saw your truck. It worked. I got you alone.”
“Sneaky bastard,” I huffed, making a left on the main road. “I should drop your ass off here on the grounds of trickery and deceit.”
“You probably should,” he replied in a barely audible voice.
“What makes you think Ronnie is on to us?”
He waved dismissively. “I dunno. I’m probably being paranoid. He talked a lot about you tonight. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was trying to set us up or—hey, turn right here.”
“Why? Your house is on the other side of—”
“I know. I just…I want to see something.”
And that was how I found myself in the weed-choked parking lot behind St. Finbarr’s church. The brick edifice was covered with ivy, its tall steeple flanked by unwieldy pines. In autumn, huge pinecones would litter the adjacent graveyard and in winter, snow would bend the branches and mini icicles would form like glittery holiday ornaments.
No one would clear needles away or worry about black ice ’cause no one bothered with this place anymore. It should have been repurposed by the church years ago, but Rome didn’t seem to be in a hurry to take care of this one. So it sat on its own on the outskirts of town, slowly being swallowed by vines and neglect.
In a place as small as Elmwood, the air of absolute abandonment felt heavy. This lot belonged to ghosts now. But it used to be ours.
I got out of the truck and followed him to a familiar patch of wall under an archway. We’d met here that summer at odd hours with well-coordinated excuses at the ready. Late movie, watching a show with friends, a birthday party, a bonfire…I’d had enough friends in my grade to make my excuses plausible—total necessity with my folks. Vinnie, on the other hand, hadn’t even had a curfew.
Sometimes he’d pick me up at the Frosty Freeze and park behind the trash bin that had been home to a dozen raccoons, but usually, I’d ride my bike. I’d toss it in the ivy out of sight, and lean against the wall to wait for him, checking my watch nervously until he showed up.
My pulse would jackhammer as he made his way toward me. Vinnie had been a handsome teenager—thinner and lankier than he was now, but anyone could see there was something special about him. He was the epitome of masculine beauty and strength—confident and cocky with a sense of humor that made smoothed out his rough edges. A mere hint of the larger-than-life hockey star he became.
And now? I wasn’t sure what we were doing here, and I said as much.
“Looking for something.” Vinnie pushed aside a patch of ivy under the archway.
“What is it?”
“It’s more of a show than tell sort of—bingo! Check this out.” He pointed at a crudely etched circle in the brick, inside was an equation…eleven plus fifteen.
“Twenty-six.” I rubbed my arms and peered up at the inky night. “Or is it a secret code?”
“It’s us.”
I cocked my head curiously. “Huh?”
“Check it out, dufus. I was number eleven in high school, you were fifteen. The circle is supposed to be a hockey puck. Hearts and initials scared me, but this seemed more like us anyway.”
I gaped at the carved numbers in disbelief, touched and confused. “You…I…wow.”